


Poison.

by PurpleK1W1



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Eddie fucking dies lol, Gen, I bully edward, I can't remember if this is completely canon compliant so-, Not really glass scientists because of gabe but whatever, and technically so does henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleK1W1/pseuds/PurpleK1W1
Summary: Pretending to be Henry is a bit harder than one might expect.





	Poison.

**Author's Note:**

> ugh i--- I wrote this around this time last year and then got sad when I read it so here it is.

After Henry faded from Edward’s subconscious, everything, in less polite terms, went to shit. Or more than it had before. Henry was responsible for making sure they weren’t found out. He was responsible for keeping relations. He was responsible for all that… Business riff-raff. He was responsible for everything boring- and as much as Edward hated to admit it, he was responsible for everything important. 

Edward knew that one of two things would happen after Henry disappeared. Either he himself would begin to shrivel from existence, or he would live the rest of his life without another half. Which was troubling. Edward didn’t miss _Henry,_ per se, he missed…The ability to hide. He missed the option to be free. And when Henry first disappeared, Edward believed that’s all it would be for him; freedom. But it wasn’t. It was actually quite difficult, having to take care of all of Jekyll’s responsibilities. And also pretending to be him. And also pretending that he wasn’t dead at all. Especially when he still could not sleep. 

So, a week or two into Hyde’s newly found independence, he found that his “freedom” couldn’t be more binding. Slumped in Henry’s office chair, He forged several signatures and filled out some other paperwork. Not-so carefully putting away his dripping pen, he looked out the window. _Nice night_, he thought, in a voice that uncomfortably belonged to him. He made up his mind to go out for a quick drink. Or a long one. 

Pushing himself from the desk in a somewhat violent manner and ignoring the unpleasant sound of carpet ripping, Edward swipes his cane from under the doorknob and his hat from the hat stand. Capping himself, he strides towards the window, yanking it open. He spares a glance over his shoulder, shrugs, and jumps out the window. He lets out a loud whoop that almost sounds like a howl as he slides down the slanted rooftop, feeling adrenaline already coursing through his veins. The morbid subjects of earlier leave his head as he searches for havoc to wreak. Falling off of the roof and sticking the landing, Edward casts several glances over both his shoulders, turning his head so quickly he should have got whiplash. Cackling like mad, the man fills his own head with possible obscenities the night could hold. He didn’t want to think about anything but everything disgraceful. 

After half an hour of stalking the less wealthy streets of London, Edward makes himself comfortable in a cozy little bar, slinking to the back and huddling himself in a corner booth, content with swiping a pint off of an unoccupied table settling in for a bit, quietly peering at the other customers. Watching drama unfold and ignoring a quiet girl who appeared to have sticky fingers.

After another hour or so, Edward decides that quietly spying wasn’t how he wanted to spend his night, and with a loud sigh, he rises and strides to the counter, ordering another pint. It was then that he decided he might as well get hammered. After all, the possibility of dying in a week was still very much plastered in the front of his mind, and he didn’t like it at all. So, he drank. For a couple of hours, he drank like there was no tomorrow. After this, he can’t remember much besides starting (and probably losing) a fight and getting kicked out by the owner of the bar. 

He didn’t mind it much. Or at all, really. Not the first bar he’s been kicked out of. And hopefully not the last. 

Stumbling back to his home, he runs into the frail girl with sticky fingers. He damn near makes his mind to trample her, they collided so harshly, but he lets it go, and ignores the feeling of his wallet slipping from his back pocket. 

_________________________________________________________

Edward only grew worse. Sometimes passively and quiet, and other times in loud desperate rage. He’d spend days in bed, (still unable to sleep), and then hours destroying the lab, roaring at something that wasn’t there. After the first couple weeks or so of Jekyll being gone, Hyde no longer shared memories with him. He couldn’t work on an antidote without Jekyll’s knowledge. He couldn’t do a lot of things, really. After a month or so of Jekyll’s disappearance, Hyde couldn’t muster the strength to do much anymore. So he locked himself in the basement lab, speaking in miserable garbling when Poole came to ask how the master was doing. 

Hyde knew Poole was onto him. He knew how close Poole held Henry. It was only a matter of time. Hyde knew his last chance was when Mr. Utterson arrived. Nor Mr. Utterson or his servants were nearly as quiet as they thought they were. Hyde knew exactly what their plan was. So, figuring this was the end, he finds the note Jekyll had penned for Utterson a month or so before, places it on a table, and, in a fit of desperation, begins to rummage around for something. He finds it. A journal. Flipping the pages frantically, he finds the recipe he needs. Running around the lab he finds the ingredients necessary to brew what he wants. 

It only takes a few minutes, but those few minutes are an eternity in hell. When his concoction is finished, he nearly puts it in a drinking glass. “No reason for that now is there..?” He chuckles darkly to himself. 

Staring at the bubbling dark purple liquid, he gulps. And then downs it in its entirety. 

Hyde sits by himself, listening to Mr. Utterson and Poole talk about him._ I’m going to die,_ He thinks, in that disgusting voice of his. “I’m going to die,” He mutters in relief. Or is it fear? Ignoring a dramatic cry from Poole outside the door, he can only stare blankly at the fireplace. And then nausea hits him, and his eyes widen. “I’m going to die!” And then a violent pain spreads through his gut, and he can’t even stop the scream that rips through his throat. Doubling over, Hyde does what any ten-year-old entity would do. 

“Poole!” He screams in a raspy voice that sounds nothing like Jekyll’s. He’s on the floor now, and a pounding on the door sounds until it begins to splinter. Hyde wipes his mouth, only to find blood that’s colored a gross, dark purple. He hears more dramatics from Poole outside the door and another sickening crack of the heavy wooden door splintering further. “Please…” He choked, purple tears spilling over his cheeks, his head spinning, “Please, have mercy!” The words ripped from his throat, he’s not even sure if he had meant to say it, or if he had said it at all. He doesn’t know how, or when it happened, but now he was on the floor, and his head had hit the hard concrete of the lab floor. He can’t make out what Poole and Utterson are saying, but the door’s open and he’s sure… He’s positive that Poole is coming to save him, and he’ll live and then he’ll _ finally  _ be free. 

__________________________________________ 

When Utterson and Poole enter the lab Edward Hyde had been dead for 10 minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> big surprise another poorly written and extremely short work 
> 
> If you like Leave kudos! I love feedback and absolutely freak when i get comments!!


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